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halloween poetry

talvez não é nenhuma matéria que você morreu
sombras voadas que varrem perto
esteja em mim como os modos eternal
a agonia de ter demasiado poder
com o por do sol
eu verei uma estrela hoje à noite
quando o vento trabalhar de encontro a nós na obscuridade
quando, cheio do amor morno e ansioso
minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho

 



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